


Don't let go

by Anonymous



Series: Wee Omens [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental wetting, All fully clothed., Coming In Pants, Deliberate Wetting, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Omorashi, Sub Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wet & Messy, Wetting, mild ageplay, soft Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 18:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20232064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Crowley has been cuddled up on Zira's lap for hours and is super cosy. He doesn't want to move. But they both know what's going to happen.





	Don't let go

**Author's Note:**

> You are now entering a wetting fetish fic. Prompt: subby crowley wetting himself on zira's lap

Aziraphale was at his desk late that evening, looking through invoices and various other bits and pieces of paperwork, peering at details through his reading glasses. 

In his lap, was a cuddly, docile demon, who had enjoyed a good few bottles of rioja that evening. The cuddly, docile demon was sitting facing his angel, head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder, legs wrapped around him and the back of the chair, feet crossed on the floor, half asleep.

It wasn’t the most convenient place for the demon to be resting, as far as Aziraphale was concerned, but any time he tried to move him, Crowley dug his nails in like a disagreeable cat, stuntly refusing to be dislodged. So the angel did not have the heart to insist he moved. After all, he was rarely this docile. He was, however, becoming a little bit wriggly.

Aziraphale rubbed his back and continued to read his various letters and statements. He had sobered up to take care of business but allowed the demon to stay pleasantly tipsy.

Crowley squirmed, just as he had, every few minutes for the past hour.

‘My dear,’ said Aziraphale tenderly. ‘It’s been several hours. Are you sure you don’t need to stretch your legs, or see to anything else, perhaps?’

Crowley cuddled up tighter. ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘M fine.’ He was doing his best to keep still. There was no better place in the world than Aziraphale’s lap. It was so soft, and warm. The only problem was, he really needed a wee. He had really needed a wee for a few hours now, but couldn’t bear to move. 

‘Are you sure, sweetheart?’ pressed Aziraphale. 

‘Hmph,’ said Crowley, scooting up as close as he could, sitting flush against Aziraphale’s crotch. He was feeling mildly amorous, but when he felt tingly, his bladder reminded him there was something more urgent to consider. He doubled his efforts to stay still and not give himself away, but it made it so much harder to hold back the pressing need to pee. He buried his face as he allowed a small leak to seep out, wetting his underwear. It was only 3 seconds before he clenched and stopped the flow. Immediately his most private area was very hot and damp. He bit his lip. Would Aziraphale feel that? Had it gone through to his jeans? He rubbed his face on the angel’s shoulder.

Aziraphale had stopped reading to pay attention to his demon. He was acutely aware of the recurrent tensing and untensing that was going on and had he suspicions that Crowley was likely neglecting nature’s call. They had talked about this, and Crowley had been told he would be in trouble if it wasn't more careful. 

‘Crowley,’ cooed Aziraphale in a low tone. ‘I think you need to visit the lavatory.’

Crowley whimpered and snuggled his angel. Another little release couldn't hurt. He let go, just another few forbidden seconds. The damp heat was spreading, so pleasant and warm, but he clenched to stop it before it could soak through.

‘I can hold it,’ fibbed the demon drowsily, indulging in another dribble. It was tiny. Aziraphale couldn’t possibly have felt that. It heated up the front of his underwear and his hips twitched. Was he really getting away with having a wee on the angel's lap? Oh how he wanted to fall asleep in Aziraphale's arms and let it all just happen.

‘My _dear_,’ warned the angel, moving his hands to squeeze Crowley’s hips, and making the demon sit up and pay attention. 

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, who did not look pleased, then glanced down at his crotch. There was a oval wet patch, darkening the black denim, accentuating the outline of his half-hard penis. He looked back up at Aziraphale, feeling sheepish. The blue eyes were dark and stern. Uh oh.

Another tingle of arousal, followed by an overwhelming urge, and Crowley instinctively grabbed himself through the denim with his hand. But the need was too strong. A burst of urine flooded his underwear and he felt it spread against his palm. Alarmed, he leaned into Aziraphale to conceal the fact he was now soaking his crotch. He cuddled up as if it were at all possible to hide his burgeoning transgression. He tried to clamp down on his muscles and stop it, but the relief was so pleasurable he couldn’t hold it back. It was happening. He would be punished. _ Oh no. _ He whimpered and buried his face again.

‘Too late,’ muttered Crowley into the angel’s shoulder, with a slight sob, before allowing the purest bliss to overtake him. The surge increased and flowed. He was fully wetting himself.

Aziraphale gasped as he felt the steaming heat on his lap spread rapidly, followed by a cascade of fluid. ‘Oh _ Anthony _,’ he scolded. Nevertheless, he wrapped his arms around him and held him protectively. It gushed from the demon, soaking his underpants, his jeans, and the angel’s lap, pouring in rivulets over their thighs, down the side of the chair, and pitter-pattering onto the hard floor. The puddle grew beneath them as Crowley felt the flow begin to taper off.

'There, there,' comforted the angel, rubbing his back. 

They were both breathless as the incriminating dripping of the demon’s indiscretion eventually silenced. Crowley wriggled. He was sopping wet and it was fast becoming uncomfortable. Aziraphale still held him tightly in place.

Hanging his head quite pitifully, Crowley sat back, red-faced, and displayed his contrition to Aziraphale, eyes shining with apology. He lowered his eye-line and saw the damage he’d done to the angel’s clothing. The beige trousers were soaked through in the crotch and all over the thighs. 

Crowley kept his head bowed. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I had longer.’

‘That’s a lie,’ said Aziraphale quietly, breath shallow. 'Bad, bad boy.' He steadily lowered his arms from Crowley’s waist down to his bottom, as he pulled him in. Their wet crotches rubbed together, the cooling fabric of their respective clothing clinging wet in all the right places. Crowley looked up. The angel was glowing like firelight. And then he was kissing Crowley almost violently. 

The angel’s fists gripped the denim-clad buttocks as he canted his hips against him for friction, and Crowley placed his feet flat on the ground for increased leverage. They were instantly wild, bucking against each other, erect lengths sliding together, chasing a release they’d been dancing around for hours. They moaned and groaned hungrily between clumsy kisses, relishing the last of the tepid wet between them with frantic grinding.

Aziraphale was loudly intoning something that was no longer under his control, and Crowley stared down at the darkened beige trousers just as the angel shouted his release, creamy come bursting through the material and cascading indecently over his groin. The angel continued to rock in the chair as the undulations decreased, ejaculate still seeping through. Crowley thrust frantically against the filthy mess to catch up, the sight of the angel’s chaotic orgasm overriding his mind, a gloriously forbidden delight, and with a surprisingly quiet cry he shook with his own climax, his own seed spurting hotly through his cold, wet underwear and adding to the mess in his jeans.

Still clinging to one another, they stayed quiet until breathing returned to normal and everything felt just that bit too icky. They peeped at each other, both blearily and bashful.

‘So, angel,’ rasped Crowley. ‘Am I in trouble now?’

‘Oh yes,’ sighed Aziraphale. ‘Terrible trouble. You will be beaten mercilessly.’ He kissed Crowley on the cheek and gently stroked his red hair.

Crowley chuckled, shifting in Aziraphale’s lap. ‘Okay, it’s gross now.’

‘Just one moment,’ said Aziraphale, his breath hitching, and Crowley felt the angel relax beneath him. Aziraphale closed his eyes, rolled his head back, and with a guttural moan thoroughly peed his pants. It was a deliciously illicit act, an utter indulgence. He savoured the sensation, a pleasant hot flood that spread in his boxers and underneath him, pooling in the gap between his thighs before overflowing his chair. It dripped down, joining the puddle already on the floor. 

There was less from him, as he’d extracted the wine from his system earlier. Nevertheless, Crowley watched with a sense of overwhelming privilege. Watching an angel wet himself… well that was special. So clandestine. So intimate. So very naughty.

With a sigh and a shift, Aziraphale finished. He opened his eyes and rolled his neck from side to side, as if doing such a disgraceful thing had allowed him to fully stretch out. The blue eyes gleamed with mischief.

‘Okay, now we’re both in trouble,’ said Crowley with a wolfish grin. 

Aziraphale gave him a wry smile and a loving look, as he patted the demon's bottom. He wriggled in the seat with a grimace. ‘Shall we?’ he suggested.

The demon snapped his fingers, and all forbidden emissions promptly disappeared from the floor, furniture and clothing, leaving them both fresh and dry. Finally, Crowley withdrew from the angel’s lap, and Aziraphale felt the loss of his demon. He stood, and took a moment to position the chair and his paperwork in order, before taking Crowley by the hand. 

‘How about a bedtime story, my dear?’ he asked, leading Crowley upstairs.

**Author's Note:**

> I may also write a version where Aziraphale forces him to do it...


End file.
